had seen with an ugly man. About the hundreds
of cabs that had honked at me and the dozens of people
who had stepped into my path and asked, "Where you go,
man?" About the woman who had crossed the street from
her house to squat beside me when I sat in the shade by a
stream and touch my leg and ask, "I love you?"
I was up at dawn. I rode the city bus to the airport because
it cost much less than a cab. It was Sunday, and neither
the bus nor the streets were crowded. Across the aisle from
me, a girl slept. She held a brochure in her hand. On it I could
read in big red letters "Sexy Gal." There was a snapshot of a
girl posing one hand behind her head a la Marilyn Monroe.
The sleeping girl's hair had fallen forward so that I could not
tell if she was the girl in the photo. I watched her. I wondered
if she was up very early or very late. I suspected very late.
Now that I looked, she was wearing white leather slacks and
high heels. She was carrying a quite expensive leather purse.
On it, I suddenly realized, were emblazoned dozens of little
Elmos.
When I got off the bus, she was still asleep.
6
. . .
LOOKING FOR PETER
W HEN I CAME IN the door, Lydia was sitting on the
couch with her arms crossed. "Hi," I said, a bit
surprised.
"There's a message for you."
"Okay. Has Art been out?" I asked.
"He can wait."
I put my briefcase on the dining-room table and went
into the kitchen, punched the button.
"Pete. It's Tanya Kim. Uh, Lisa tested positive for heroin.
It was a private autopsy, and my dad had it sealed, so no one
knows this, but I decided you should. Please keep it confidential.
'Bye." I rewound the tape and listened for the time
of the call. Right in the middle of the day, when she could
be fairly certain I would not be home. Obviously she did not
want to talk about this.
I turned around, and Lydia was standing in the doorway
arms still crossed. "What the hell is that all about?"
"Lisa Kim. Look, I know that sounded bad, but—"
"I thought Lisa Kim was dead," she said pointedly.
"That was her sister on the phone."
"What is her sister doing calling you? I don't understand.
Are you seeing her sister now?"
"No, no. I ran into her. I just ran into her at Café Express
a week ago Saturday. We had a cup of coffee. It's kind of fascinating,
really. Tanya feels—"
"It's not fascinating. It's not at all fascinating. It's a little
sick, if you ask me. I think you're obsessed. How in God's
name do you even know her sister, anyway?"
She'd nailed me. She had me dead to rights.
"Why would she recognize you? Why would you recognize her ? Do you know her?"
I was trapped. "I went to the funeral," I said quietly.
"Oh Jesus." Lydia sank down at the kitchen table and put
her head in her hands. "Why are you involving yourself in
these peoples' lives, for God's sake?"
"I'm not involving—"
"And what about our lives? What's happened to our lives?"
I might have said, "I thought you didn't want lives together.
Wasn't that the deal? 'An alliance rather than a marriage'
didn't you once say?" But instead I said, "I know; I've
been a little preoccupied."
"A little, for Chrissake? You forgot my birthday. You've
taken how many days off from work now? You left your wallet
in the avocados in the grocery store and didn't even know
it until they called you. You lost your car for two days; how
can you lose a car? And what's this about heroin? And tell me
this: What's 'I thought you should know.' Why should you
know, for God's sake? Why should you know? Were you having
a relationship with this woman? I mean, did you know
her before this accident for Chrissake? Were you chasing her
or something?"
"Chasing her?"
"Yes, chasing her, and you're still chasing her. She's dead
and you're still chasing her."
"Me?"
I call Art "the dog who walks himself " because he doesn't
need a leash; he follows right on my heel wherever I go even
through crowds of people or heavy traffic, even like that night
for miles and miles. I started off thinking about,
of cabs that had honked at me and the dozens of people
who had stepped into my path and asked, "Where you go,
man?" About the woman who had crossed the street from
her house to squat beside me when I sat in the shade by a
stream and touch my leg and ask, "I love you?"
I was up at dawn. I rode the city bus to the airport because
it cost much less than a cab. It was Sunday, and neither
the bus nor the streets were crowded. Across the aisle from
me, a girl slept. She held a brochure in her hand. On it I could
read in big red letters "Sexy Gal." There was a snapshot of a
girl posing one hand behind her head a la Marilyn Monroe.
The sleeping girl's hair had fallen forward so that I could not
tell if she was the girl in the photo. I watched her. I wondered
if she was up very early or very late. I suspected very late.
Now that I looked, she was wearing white leather slacks and
high heels. She was carrying a quite expensive leather purse.
On it, I suddenly realized, were emblazoned dozens of little
Elmos.
When I got off the bus, she was still asleep.
6
. . .
LOOKING FOR PETER
W HEN I CAME IN the door, Lydia was sitting on the
couch with her arms crossed. "Hi," I said, a bit
surprised.
"There's a message for you."
"Okay. Has Art been out?" I asked.
"He can wait."
I put my briefcase on the dining-room table and went
into the kitchen, punched the button.
"Pete. It's Tanya Kim. Uh, Lisa tested positive for heroin.
It was a private autopsy, and my dad had it sealed, so no one
knows this, but I decided you should. Please keep it confidential.
'Bye." I rewound the tape and listened for the time
of the call. Right in the middle of the day, when she could
be fairly certain I would not be home. Obviously she did not
want to talk about this.
I turned around, and Lydia was standing in the doorway
arms still crossed. "What the hell is that all about?"
"Lisa Kim. Look, I know that sounded bad, but—"
"I thought Lisa Kim was dead," she said pointedly.
"That was her sister on the phone."
"What is her sister doing calling you? I don't understand.
Are you seeing her sister now?"
"No, no. I ran into her. I just ran into her at Café Express
a week ago Saturday. We had a cup of coffee. It's kind of fascinating,
really. Tanya feels—"
"It's not fascinating. It's not at all fascinating. It's a little
sick, if you ask me. I think you're obsessed. How in God's
name do you even know her sister, anyway?"
She'd nailed me. She had me dead to rights.
"Why would she recognize you? Why would you recognize her ? Do you know her?"
I was trapped. "I went to the funeral," I said quietly.
"Oh Jesus." Lydia sank down at the kitchen table and put
her head in her hands. "Why are you involving yourself in
these peoples' lives, for God's sake?"
"I'm not involving—"
"And what about our lives? What's happened to our lives?"
I might have said, "I thought you didn't want lives together.
Wasn't that the deal? 'An alliance rather than a marriage'
didn't you once say?" But instead I said, "I know; I've
been a little preoccupied."
"A little, for Chrissake? You forgot my birthday. You've
taken how many days off from work now? You left your wallet
in the avocados in the grocery store and didn't even know
it until they called you. You lost your car for two days; how
can you lose a car? And what's this about heroin? And tell me
this: What's 'I thought you should know.' Why should you
know, for God's sake? Why should you know? Were you having
a relationship with this woman? I mean, did you know
her before this accident for Chrissake? Were you chasing her
or something?"
"Chasing her?"
"Yes, chasing her, and you're still chasing her. She's dead
and you're still chasing her."
"Me?"
I call Art "the dog who walks himself " because he doesn't
need a leash; he follows right on my heel wherever I go even
through crowds of people or heavy traffic, even like that night
for miles and miles. I started off thinking about,
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